


Happy Not-Dead Day

by DivergentLunarShadowhunter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Birthday, Dean's Birthday, Gen, happy birthday dean, happy birthday dean winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-09 02:56:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13472247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DivergentLunarShadowhunter/pseuds/DivergentLunarShadowhunter
Summary: January 24th is just a normal day in the bunker. Dean knows Sam won't remember, so he ignores it. Everyone they love is gone or missing, the world is going to shit again...and Dean truly doesn't care what day it is.A shortish birthday fic for the one and only Dean Winchester. Because I care more about these characters than I care about most people in the real world.





	Happy Not-Dead Day

If he was being completely honest, it took him hours to realize what day it was. Enough time for him to sleep in until ten, wonder why Sam didn’t wake him up, eat some dubiously edible leftovers for breakfast, and take a shower. 

 

It was past noon before he finally checked his phone and realized with a sinking heart that he recognized the date. It was January 24th. 

 

He didn’t even remember the last time he’d celebrated his birthday. The last few years he had been way too, well,  _ occupied  _ with dying and not-dying from various threats to humanity. The only thing that he’d been celebrating before was not dying, surviving another year of hunting; it all seemed a bit obsolete now, didn’t it?

 

It didn’t matter. Not like Sam would remember- if he did, Dean would make sure he didn’t do anything about it. It was just a normal day, sitting in the bunker and waiting for a case. 

 

And it was just the two of them, since Jack had disappeared, and Cas had disappeared trying to find him. Jack was either in the alternate dimension with their mother, or he was somewhere else entirely, and there was no way to tell. Cas wasn’t returning his numerous phone calls or responding to his prayers, which only left him more worried that something terrible had happened to the angel. And his mom…

 

Dean had left Jody’s house without either of them knowing about his birthday the following week. He’d just spent days in the Bad Place eating lizard and being used as monster-bait; he wasn’t exactly in the mood to party. 

 

Neither was Claire, which is why he’d decided today that he wasn’t going to go back to the girls’ house. He couldn’t do that to Claire or any of the others- they’d just lost Kaia, a friend, and there was no way he was just going to show up with a six-pack and a chocolate cake and pretend like everything was perfectly alright when it so obviously wasn’t.

 

He ended up in his room for hours, mostly staying in bed or listening to music (while also staying in bed). He hadn’t seen Sam while in the kitchen, just a scrap of paper with “food run” written on it. Evidently Sam hadn’t remembered what day it was either, which was a relief. 

 

How old was he this year, anyway? Born in ‘79, now it was 2018. That would make him… _ oh fucking hell. _

 

No way he was thirty-nine. Had it really been…yeah, it had, hadn’t it? When he’d first visited Sammy in college in 2005 he’d been 26, right? That meant he was 29 in 2008, then ten years later… _ shit. I’m almost forty.  _

 

He was aware that it was supposed to be some sort of accomplishment to be that old and to have survived all those years of hunting. But he hadn’t, had he? He’d already died, been brought back just to die again. He’d cheated his entire life, and he knew plenty of people who’d deserved to get to 40 way more than him.

 

And he was the reason they hadn’t. 

It wasn’t much, but Dean was already about to turn around and just walk right out, but then, just as he had dreaded, they came for him.

 

_ The puppy eyes _ . The god damn Sam Winchester face that he hadn’t seen his little brother make in  _ years _ .

 

“Are you  _ seriously _ resorting to that?” He rolled his eyes. “You know that doesn’t work on me anymore.” Sam’s head cocked to the side and he raised his eyebrows.

 

“Oh really? Then what are you still doing here?” Dean huffed and crossed his arms.

 

“Because I couldn’t believe that you would be so idiotic to actually do that.” He ignored the fact that he’d subconsciously planted his feet inside the doorway. Sam had a  _ pie _ , for Chuck’s sake. A huge, delicious,  _ warm _ pie. And Dean still hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast, after all. With a sigh, he wrapped the warm robe more tightly around himself and joined ~~Sam~~   the pie at the table. 

 

He went for the knife, but his brother got there first. He glanced up at Sam with a dull, unimpressed stare, arm still outstretched.

 

“Really, Sam?” He was going to cut him the smallest piece, Dean just knew it.

 

When he ended up with nearly a quarter of the pie on his plate, he shut up. Yeah, okay, he was getting old. Too old to have kids, too old to have a life with anybody. But if he was going to eat anything less than thirty-nine percent of a pie, he’d rather just die without any of it.

 

After he’d gotten through about half of it within just a few messy bites, he looked up to see Sam cutting himself a piece nearly as big as his own.

 

“Dude!” Sam smirked as he moved the slice onto his plate and Dean’s eyes followed the movement. “What about- what about your whole rabbit food thing?” His older brother looked so distressed from the loss of his pie that Sam couldn’t help but let out a laugh as he took a bite and shrugged.   
  
“I’m getting old too, man. Pretty soon neither of us will be able to even eat this much pie.” The look on Dean’s face was priceless.

 

“If that day ever comes,” he said seriously, gesturing with his fork, “then you just shoot me in the head right then and there.”

 

They didn’t say anything else until the entire pie was gone and both of them were seriously regretting that decision. Neither of them mentioned the word ‘birthday’ for the rest of the day; it just sort of hung around in the air like an invisible reminder that wouldn’t ever get acknowledged. They just collapsed on the couch and flipped through the channels on the TV until they found a movie to watch; and if either of them closed their eyes, it would be almost too easy to pretend they were back in an old motel room on a different January 24th, in a time where Dean was taller than Sam and neither of them even knew if they would ever get to celebrate this day.

 

And, for the first time in a long time, they were both glad they did.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I know. It was a spur of the moment thing. I typed it in Notes on the bus instead of studying for midterms this morning, so I hope it's not *that* bad but it might be.
> 
> Happy 39th Not-Dead Day, Dean <3


End file.
